Give Me Love
by zaraX
Summary: Hermione believes Valentine's Day is a load of rubbish and is feeling particularly neglected on this horrifying pink and red holiday. Draco, however, proves her wrong. One-shot inspired by Ed Sheeran's "Give Me Love".


**AN: **I decided to write this because of Valentine's Day, and because after listening to _Give Me Love_ by Ed Sheeran, I felt kind of inspired. This is really late but it still counts! Here, it's around 11:00 PM (Feb 14) so yes, it's technically still Valentine's day.

UPDATE: I went through and rewrote the last few paragraphs of the ending! For those of you who have no idea what I'm talking about, this fic got sort of messy at the end so I finally went through and edited it. And it's about four months late... but hey, it's done.

**Disclaimer: **Nope. Don't own anything. All characters belong to JK Rowling.

.

She could already smell the love in the air.

The scent was overwhelmingly strong, artificial, and overrated.

Ron slammed his goblet of juice down on the table for the fourth time that morning, making Hermione flinch. "Bloody hell! I _swear _if another damn cupid opens its mouth I will personally Crucio—"

"Ron, just because you're upset that no one dedicated a song to you doesn't mean that you have to complain about it every minute," Hermione said calmly while Harry chuckled in amusement.

"I'm not upset," Ron grumbled, glaring at her. "I'm annoyed."

Hermione had to admit that she, too, was quickly becoming annoyed with the singing cupids. Were there really that many lovesick and immature girls willing to embarrass themselves in front of other boys who most likely didn't reciprocate their feelings? She hated the uncertainty and the risk. Sure, she was sorted into Gryffindor, which was the house common for recklessly diving into things, but Hermione Granger was _not _one to make premature decisions. Especially with relationships.

She felt her throat close up at the thoughts swirling rapidly through her mind. No, no, no. She didn't need these dangerous thoughts in her mind, especially on this wretched pink and heart-filled day. She didn't want her hopes to be raised just so she could be put down again, like countless other girls. She was smarter than that.

"What about you?" Ron asked Harry, eyeing him carefully. "You aren't planning on sending…or should I say…_receiving_ one today, are you?" Ron shuddered with disgust as if the cupids were cleverly disguised spiders that would explode.

Harry's face reddened when Ron said "receiving", no doubt remembering the time Ginny had sent him a rather lovely song she had composed herself, something about his eyes and freshly pickled toads.

"Ah, well, I…erm…" he cleared his throat, "Ginny might expect one, you know, so I'll probably send one just because she'd feel a bit left out…"

Hermione snorted at Harry's awkwardness, "A singing cupid isn't the only thing you could give her," she said grudgingly. "Be creative for once."

"Like _you _know so much about romance," Ron cut in. He paused, then wrinkled his nose, "Thank goodness you don't. I don't know how I'd be able to pass Potions if you spent the whole time fawning over some boy."

Hermione bit her lip to keep from making a witty remark about Ron's love life…or rather, lack of love life. Ron had shockingly given up on pursuing air-headed girls like Lavender Brown. According to Harry, it was the "best decision he'd made all year." Hermione had agreed, and to show that Ron was making the right choice, she heavily emphasized the NEWTS that they still needed to study for. Of course, Ron had only stared at her incredulously, stating that he was only giving up dating for a year so he could focus on Quidditch.

Hermione scoffed at the answer. _Boys. _Why couldn't they be practical and attentive? Why were they so easily distracted? She prided herself in being able to focus on her studies unlike the other girls in her year. She was ambitious, career-orientated and didn't really give a damn about anyone else's personal lives…well, except for Harry and Ron's.

But, something suddenly spoke from the depths of her mind, that had all changed. It had all changed this year when she had been made Head Girl and the person she hated most had been made Head Boy. Merlin, she could have_ Avada Kedavra'd _herself when she found out she would have to share a common room with her former enemy. Yes, things had changed after they learned that Malfoy was back on their side. _Only because his daddy got put in Azkaban, _Hermione had thought to herself with revulsion. But she was not ready to accept the fact that he would just stride into her life, take over her mind, and…

"Hermione?" Harry asked again, and Hermione snapped back into focus.

"Of course," she murmured absently, and Harry looked relieved.

"Are you sure?" Ron muttered to Harry, to which Harry nodded vigorously.

"Hermione's good at this," he said with complete assurance, "And she said 'of course'. Come on, let's go get that furry hippogriff-print one we saw earlier. Ginny will love it."

And the two boys left the breakfast table, leaving Hermione slightly bewildered and disturbed at what Harry could possibly be getting for Ginny.

Furry, hippogriff-print _what?_

* * *

_(September)_

"What!?" Hermione screeched. "Professor, you…" she cleared her throat and smoothed down her frizzy hair. "I mean, are you entirely sure—"

"Yes, Miss Granger," Professor McGonagall repeated for the third time, a hint of agitation edging into her voice. "I'm sure. Malfoy has been improving over the year. I believe that after witnessing the evil doings of the Dark Lord, he has truly changed."

Hermione didn't want to tell her professor that she had too much faith. There was no way a prick like Malfoy could just change.

But she made no complaint and only nodded obediently. Professor McGonagall gave a half smile and said in a surprisingly fond tone, "I know this will be challenging, Hermione, but you should know that I picked you not only for your excellent grades and intelligence, but for your ability to maturely handle each situation you encounter, as an adult should."

"Thank you, professor," Hermione replied, turning around and leaving the Headmistress' office immediately before she could ask the one question that still lingered in her mind.

What wonderful qualities did Malfoy posses that made him Head Boy?

* * *

"_Coramorsa!" _a Ravenclaw girl with flouncy red curls shot a stream of sparkling, floating hearts from her wand. Her fellow Ravenclaws clapped at her newly discovered spell, and Hermione rolled her eyes at the atrocity. She then watched with disinterest as Ron tried to do the same, but ended up shooting out a jet of sparkly pink light that hit Professor Flitwick square in the stomach.

"Oof!" he grunted, and Ron grimaced at the damage. Professor Flitwick had turned a whole shade of magenta, a disturbingly bright blush rising to his cheeks.

"Ahh, I'll fix that," Harry winced when Professor Flitwick began to giggle unnaturally at his students.

"No, I will," Hermione said firmly before Harry could worsen the situation. "_Finite Incantatem,_" she muttered, and Flitwick quickly composed himself, his face still red.

"Happy Valentine's Day!" a Hufflepuff squealed excitedly to break the silence, and the class began laughing again, working on their spells once more.

_Happy Valentine's Day._

Hermione mused over the words as she performed a few taming charms on her hair. They came in handy, especially since they were so simple that she didn't need to say them aloud so she could save herself from embarrassment.

Valentine's Day was overrated, Hermione quickly concluded. It was a pathetic excuse for couples to snog in the hallways, for girls to wear ridiculous makeup and pink, pink, pink _everywhere. _She didn't like pink. It reminded her of Dolores Umbridge.

However, she had to admit that there was something almost exciting that came along with the dreadful holiday. No matter how much she refused to raise her hopes, she had always wondered whether there was someone out there. Someone who secretly liked her, or someone…

She shook her head to clear away the pointless thoughts. She was acting like a silly fourth year with a crush on Viktor Krum. The last thing she needed was someone to like her.

* * *

_(November)_

"Do you always dress like a sixteenth century witch?" Malfoy's drawl came from the other side of their small, yet somehow cozy common room. Hermione glared at him but didn't say a word.

She didn't like studying here, but some days weren't so bad. Even though she would _definitely _Obliviate the memory if she ever said it…well, Malfoy wasn't so bad. He had matured. Maybe just slightly, but it was enough so that he wasn't calling her a Mudblood anymore. From what she had learned from their brief conversations, he had given up on trying to humiliate the Golden Trio, he had isolated himself from the two idiots (Crabbe and Goyle) and to her surprise, he had stopped believing in blood superiority.

She mentally slapped herself for not buying a pensieve the very day he told her this bit of information. Malfoy, _not caring about blood status_.

The universe must have been falling apart.

Yet, today, he had decided to be an annoying git. Hermione reasoned that it was because he was bored. He had (much to her annoyance) finished all of his essays and homework and was left with nothing left to do but taunt her.

She still found his intelligence disturbing. She had known he was smart, but she had always underestimated how fast his brain could work sometimes. Compared to Malfoy, she worked as slow as a flobberworm and it irritated the competitive streak within her to no end. She checked the time—one o'clock. AM.

"Still not done with that essay?" came Malfoy's sleepy remark.

"Why are you even awake, Malfoy?" she snapped with irritation.

He only shrugged. "Figured you could use some encouragement."

She ground her teeth and set her focus back on the astronomy essay. On days like these, he needed a good hex. In the face. With the Elder Wand.

* * *

"How are you, Hermione?" Parvati asked politely as they stirred their potions together. Snape had told them to work with a partner and naturally, Harry partnered with Ron, leaving Hermione to stir amortentia with Parvati.

"Brilliant," Hermione muttered, and Parvati smiled.

"That's great. Oh, guess what? I got a singing cupid today, and you won't believe who it was from…"

Hermione soon began to block out the incessant rambling, and felt a queasy sensation in her stomach. Of course. It was because this was the one class they had with Slytherin, and the blond haired wizard behind her happened to be none other than Head Git.

Just brilliant.

"Wanna play a game?" Parvati asked suddenly, probably out of boredom. She and Hermione didn't really share anything in common so they never had much to talk about.

"Umm, sure."

"Let's try to guess our favorite things," Parvati beamed. "I'll take a whiff of your potion, and you can do the same with mine."

Hermione's back went rigid at the concept of this 'game', and she quickly shook her head. "No that's alright Parvati. I'd rather not."

"Why?" Parvati questioned. "Got a little secret?" she raised her eyebrow curiously, and Hermione felt herself begin to blush.

"No," she said, "I'd just rather not share…but you can always ask Lavender," she gestured to the next table, and Parvati agreed.

"Okay, yours is probably no fun anyway. Just old books and…what was it? Freshly cut grass?"

Hermione nodded. Yes. Parvati had remembered correctly.

She had just left out one scent.

* * *

_(December)_

Hermione smiled to herself as she sipped her hot chocolate peacefully, _Hogwarts: A History _lying open her lap, and Crookshanks curled near her feet. Everything so far was perfect. It was Christmas Eve and so far, she had made plans on exactly what books she would want to read during the holiday on exactly what days, so she could keep her troubled mind off of her parents…

The portrait door opened and Hermione watched with curiosity as Draco Malfoy actually struggled to enter with an enormous box.

"What's that?" she asked, and he lifted his head at her words. He hadn't seen her.

"Nothing," he answered as he carefully set the box down in the corner of the room. He straightened, running a hand through his white-blond hair as he looked at Crookshanks with a mixture of disgust and apprehension.

"Does that monstrosity really have to sleep here?" he asked.

"He has a name," Hermione replied crossly, "And he's my cat, so drop it, Malfoy."

The corner of his mouth lifted in a small smirk before he said "Fine. But if it sheds on my carpet—"

"Don't worry, Crookshanks wouldn't dare step onto Slytherin territory," Hermione defended her cat. She petted him fondly before looking back up at Draco, who had turned his attention back to the box and was staring at it thoughtfully, tapping a finger against his chin.

"_Reducto," _he suddenly said, and the box burst open into red and green colours. Hermione shrieked and almost spilled her hot cocoa, using an arm to cover her book protectively. Horrible singing assaulted her ears for half a second before Malfoy fired a second spell at it to shut it up, and then another to destroy it.

"What was that?" Hermione asked timidly, and Malfoy grinned at her with amusement.

"Apparently, that was my Christmas present," he said, magically removing the small pieces of confetti and tissue paper. "From Pansy."

Hermione nodded in understanding. Of course, Pansy _would _go all-out to get something for her boyfriend.

"Well, what did you get her? Please tell me it was something better than that shrieking…what was it, a gnome? Or a troll?"

"Granger," Malfoy sighed, "If she wanted a troll, she would have just put _you _in the bloody box."

Hermione's cheeks turned pink, "Oh, very funny!"

"I know," he said with his perfected arrogance, but Hermione knew he was only joking. Although it was quite believing at times.

"Anyways, what did you buy?"

He paused for a moment, before shrugging. "Nothing."

"What do you mean?" Hermione asked, a little too curiously. _Oh no, now I sound like I'm actually interested in his life, _she thought with horror. She quickly backtracked. "Not that I really care," she added in a bored tone.

"I didn't get her anything because I didn't need to," said Malfoy. "I broke up with her just this morning."

"You—you did what?" Hermione asked, extremely confused.

"Actually," said Malfoy, "She asked me if she could come over for the holidays. When I told her that I had given up the Manor, she looked like she was about to fucking _cry_," he suddenly sounded bitter, and Hermione wondered if it was because he actually cared for her or if it was because he was tired of people judging him. Probably the latter.

"So I broke up with her," he continued nonchalantly. "It was obvious what she really wanted."

Hermione hummed in agreement, pondering his words. That means Pansy hadn't changed at all since last year. Still a stuck-up, pug-faced pureblood princess. And now, she was in need of a wealthy boyfriend. Interesting.

Something about what Malfoy had mentioned earlier caught her attention. "What did you mean by saying that you gave up the Manor?"

"I don't really live there anymore," he said carefully, "The Order has sort of come in, and my mother decided it was alright for them to have it. She's staying with aunt 'Meda anyway, so there's no point in me going…" he cringed slightly, "home."

"Oh."

There was a long silence where Hermione wished she had something to say. Every time she and Malfoy spoke, they had always avoided these topics. His past, her past, _their _past. She wasn't used to him speaking much about his life, and an unexplainable hollowness seemed to fill her. She didn't know why she did, but she felt a twinge of sympathy for him. Maybe he wasn't as controlled and haughty as she believed. Maybe he had just been influenced wrongly the whole time. Maybe he just didn't have a choice.

"Malfoy," she said suddenly, and cursed herself the moment afterwards. She knew she was going to sound ridiculous.

"Yes?"

"Do you want to go to Diagon Alley with me? There are a few things I need to buy, and I…err…might need some help."

He raised an eyebrow, "You want me to go shopping with you?"

"Yes," she said defiantly, "Not classy enough for you?"

And he surprised her yet again when he grinned, and said "As long as it doesn't include singing trolls, I'm in."

* * *

"So have you gotten anything today?" Lavender asked excitedly. She was clutching a horrifying pink stuffed animal that had _Forever in my heart _written across it's chest.

"No," Hermione said flatly, stirring her potion clockwise seven times.

"Oh, well _that's _disappointing," a voice drifted from a few tables over. Hermione looked up to see Pansy and her companions giggling

"But I'm not surprised," Pansy continued, "She probably spends Valentine's Day with Moaning Myrtle in the bathroom, wondering why she can't attract a single boy…probably due to that brown dust cloud that poor creature thinks is hair…." Pansy and her Slytherin friends laughed derisively.

"At least I don't need a bursting Gringotts account to be satisfied with a date," Hermione fired back, causing Pansy to instantaneously fall silent. Hermione inwardly cheered in triumph and turned back to her potion, ignoring the newly formed snide remarks that spewed from Pansy's mouth. No. She was stronger than that.

But the words still gave her doubt. She was strong, but not strong enough to hold back from the _what ifs. _What if Pansy was right? What if no one cared? What if…

She felt a pair of eyes burning into her back and casually glanced at Lavender's mirror resting against a spellbook. Behind her, Malfoy's blond head was bent, studiously focused on writing down his potions report. No, she must have been imagining it all.

* * *

_(New Year's Eve)_

Fireworks shot up into the inky sky, illuminating the treetops of the Forbidden Forest and causing beautiful reflections on the lake. Hermione wanted to be out celebrating with Ron, Harry, and the rest of the Gryffindors, but her Head Girl Duties kept her on the astronomy tower where she had a perfect lookout for anything potentially threatening.

She was glad that she at least had company, even if it was in the form of a scowling Slytherin. Malfoy paced around the entire room, muttering strings of curse words about how McGonagall was a frumpy old witch who didn't trust him.

Well, the words might have been harsher, but Hermione was in no mood to be sour. She folded her arms across her chest, shivering slightly as she watched the colors dance across the sky, joining the stars.

Malfoy finally gave up pacing and joined her on the balcony. All was silent between them and Hermione was grateful. She wanted a smooth, peaceful transition into the New Year. Even if Malfoy's presence did dampen her mood.

The wind blew again, tossing her chocolate curls over her shoulders. She shivered once more and hugged herself.

"Are you cold?" Malfoy spoke, and she paused before nodding.

"A bit, yeah."

"Here," he shrugged off his cloak and draped it around her shoulders. She instantly felt ten times warmer and wondered how someone who always looked so cold could really produce this heat.

She banished the thoughts from her head and tried to take a deep, calming breath. Instead, she ended up breathing in his scent wrapped around the cloak. It was sharp, luxurious, yet cool, something indefinable; but definitely Malfoy.

"Thank you," she smiled gratefully, and he returned a small smile back. It was enough for her.

"_Ten, nine, eight!"_

She watched with amusement everyone by the lake began to count downwards, the raised voices ringing through the night. Draco began to pace again, and she wondered what was bothering him.

"_Seven, six, five!"_

She suddenly remembered something, something that tugged in the back of her mind, making her have a mini-panic attack.

_Four, three!_

The New Year Eve's kiss.

No.

She quickly turned around right when everyone shouted _ONE! _and bells began to ring. But Malfoy had taken to casually leaning against the wall and ignoring her completely. She almost breathed out a sigh of relief.

And yet….

Something in her deflated. Something began to shrivel and hurt. She shook her head, no, it didn't mean anything.

Malfoy cast a glance over her expression, "Feel any different?" he drawled.

"Am I supposed to?" she asked quietly.

He took a few hesitant steps towards her, stopping just a few feet away.

"Yes, supposedly so."

"Do you?" she asked in return. "Do you feel different, Malfoy? Do you have a grand list of resolutions, do you have wishes, do you feel accomplished, do you—"

"Granger," he interrupted quietly, "You're rambling again."

She quickly sealed her lips and looked away from him.

"You only do that when you're nervous or worried," he said, and joined her by the edge of the balcony. "And no. No to all of your questions, because there's no fucking way I'm about to change my life just because another year has passed."

"Haven't you already?"

"You consider this change?" he asked, turning to face her. His silver eyes glinted in the moonlight and she shivered.

"I consider it progress," she said. "But…you're different. And I think you can be better with time."

He snorted at her prediction, "It depends on a lot of things."

"Like what?" she inquired.

He shifted uncomfortably under her questioning gaze. "Nothing, Granger. Go to bed."

She said nothing for a minute, only thinking. They stared out towards the finally peaceful lake side by side. Hermione was painfully aware of their proximity but said nothing. She didn't dare let anymore of her dangerous thoughts take over her head. She didn't dare let any form of emotion overcome her logic.

Little did she know, Malfoy was facing the exact same situation. So a full minute of stubborn silence passed between them until finally, Hermione nodded and stretched before rubbing her eyes. "'Night, Malfoy."

"Happy New Year, Granger."

She went to bed, completely forgetting about his cloak that was still wrapped around herself.

* * *

The rest of the day passed in a blur of red and pink. It wasn't until Hermione reached Arithmancy, her last class of the day, that she allowed herself to face the truth.

Maybe she _was _bothered after all.

She tossed her bags on the floor by her desk, flipped open the first textbook she could get her hands on and began to read random facts. Completely arbitrary subjects that would temporarily take her mind off of the torture.

Thankfully, she had arrived ten minutes earlier in her desire to escape the surreal world of hand-holding and loving kisses. At least here, Professor Vector was the no-nonsense type who didn't bother decorating the room or encouraging _love. _Here, it was peaceful and quiet, and Hermione was happily alone.

Until only twenty one seconds later, Malfoy stepped into the room too, bringing in his subtle scent that made Hermione tense and recall the horrible, haunting memories. What was wrong with her? Was she so desperate for a sign of someone to care that she actually had the nerve to bring up _those_ memories?

"Granger," he nodded stiffly in acknowledgement, and turned to sit alone at the Slytherin table.

Well that made two of them who wanted to avoid the Valentine spirit.

Hermione couldn't help but take the occasional surreptitious glance at him out of the corner of her eye. He seemed quiet today. He always seemed quiet…and it bothered her. He still went through girls like they were Quidditch matches to win over and he still joked around with his Slytherin friends. His appearance remained immaculate as usual and he was the victim of gossip _everywhere_ these days. Yes, he still wore the occasional dark scowl every time Harry and Ron appeared, and yes, he was sometimes an annoying git. But Hermione sensed something different—not in the way he showed himself to the world, but in the way he spoke to her when they were alone. She supposed it started sometime around the beginning of last month. He had just seemed…cold, all of a sudden. Cold and distant.

And she had no clue why.

* * *

_(January)_

Hermione took a deep breath, "Can I ask you a question, Malfoy?"

He shrugged, not giving her his full attention due to the thirteen inch essay he had to complete for Potions.

"Zabini talked to me today after Arithmancy. He…er…asked me if I wanted to go to Hogsmeade with him. He seems genuinely nice, but I don't really know him," Hermione found herself blushing and feeling like an idiot for asking Malfoy for advice. But he was the only person she could really go to, since he was closest to Blaise. "This wasn't some sort of joke, was it?"

Malfoy abruptly stopped writing with his quill and looked up at her with an unreadable expression. "Blaise asked you to go to Hogsmeade with him?"

"Y-yes," Hermione stammered, "I thought it was another one of those bets you two always did, and if he lost, he'd have to..you know, ask me," she explained. "I didn't know so I wanted to ask you."

Something in his jaw tensed and he remained absolutely still when he spoke, "I had no idea. So to answer your question, no. We didn't make a bet."

"Oh, good," Hermione let out a small sigh of relief. "Thanks."

"Well? Are you going to answer him?" he asked.

"I think so," said Hermione, shrugging. She didn't really want to go with Blaise on a date—just as partners or friends. She decided that it might be a good idea to get to know him and strengthen interhouse relations, as McGonagall had put it. "He does seem like a better person than before."

Malfoy said nothing and continued to write his essay, which Hermione found odd. He usually would have a remark on the tip of his tongue, but tonight he remained quiet.

"Well, if that's all, then I'm going to bed," she said, still giving him a peculiar look which he didn't notice.

"Goodnight," he replied curtly, never lifting his eyes from the parchment.

.

The next few days had been just as odd. Whenever they spoke, it was as if the January chill had settled in and separated them from truly communicating with each other. The words being exchanged were just words. There were no smiles, laughs, smirks or even frowns. No expressions at all. Only words.

It wasn't until the next week that Malfoy had finally begun to loosen up, much to her relief. He was beginning to go back to his normal self. Except, she had realized with disappointment, he had begun dating a lot more girls. And they never lasted long.

The change made Hermione uncomfortable and gave her the worst sort of feeling in her stomach. It was one she was too familiar with. It was the feeling of being put down. She was almost disappointed in Malfoy but she remembered that it was his life—not hers. He was finally free to do whatever he wanted, so why shouldn't he be able to date who he liked?

_Because, _Hermione had thought to herself, _They don't really care for him, do they? And he doesn't care for them either._

* * *

Hermione checked her watch—it was already ten o'clock. She staggered up the dark stone staircase and wondered why she had decided to stay up studying in the library so late. _Probably out of habit, _she thought to herself. It was peaceful in the library. Plus, she could allow her mind to finally relax after the day was over.

She reflected on today's events. Not very good, she frowned, in fact, it was extremely disappointing. She didn't even receive any sweets from Harry and Ron, who were too busy showing off their flying skills at practice.

In fact, she felt lonelier than she had ever felt before. It was as if Cupid had shot everyone with an arrow of love, and hit her instead with an arrow of steel, leaving her hollow and injured. But no one noticed, as usual. She was just Hermione Know-it-all Granger. Why would she need _love _if she was so smart? _Hermione Granger _didn't need love! No! She just needed books and an insane amount of hair-taming charms! She snorted at her ridiculous sarcasm. If only one could win an arrow of love, or at least someone to just care, with wits instead of looks.

"_Coperari" _she muttered grumpily once she reached the portrait door, and it swung open soundlessly.

Once she stepped in, she immediately noticed how dark it was. Well, except for the brightly lit fire over in the back of the room, where Malfoy was sitting on the ground and tossing in...papers? Cards?

She dropped her bag on the floor, acknowledging her presence. It fell with a heavy _thud._

He still didn't turn around to say hello, but that was normal. It was how their nights usually went. She would walk in on him doing homework, they wouldn't make eye contact, and she would say a brief 'goodnight' before going to her bedroom.

This time, however, her curiosity took over. "Malfoy, what are you doing?" She walked over to the other side of the room, where she noticed the stack of Valentine's day cards sitting next to him.

"What does it look like I'm doing?" he rolled his eyes, and tossed another one into the fire.

The vague memory of him blowing up the singing Christmas present Pansy had given him reappeared in her mind, and she gave a faint smile.

"It'd be a lot easier if you just vanished them."

"I know. But this is more satisfying."

"Satisfying? They're meant for you. You could at least respect the fact that people really care about you." She didn't bother to hide the small amount of bitterness in her voice.

He didn't reply at first, and she sighed. Why was she even trying to talk to him?

"Bad day?" he looked up from the glittering paper heart he was holding.

Hermione blinked in surprise when she heard the question. Why would he...? Oh, right. Because he knew how affected she would be by her 'single status'. Was this some sort of joke? Was he purposely asking her about how her day was so he could have a good laugh?

"No, it was bloody brilliant," she replied in full sarcasm. Maybe his dry sense of humor had rubbed off on her. "I just about had the best time of my life listening to cupids sing and Pansy laugh at me and receiving nothing on the day where normal people—"

"Don't tell me you actually wanted one of those stupid beasts-with-wings to sing to you," Draco interrupted. "Aren't you above that?"

"Yes," Hermione snapped, "I am. But _some _people appreciate it when others care about them." She got up from the sofa and flipped her unruly hair over her shoulder.

He stood up too, and a pile of pink envelopes fell from his lap. "You think this is any better?" He gestured to the mess that littered the floor. "This means _nothing. _All it shows me is that some girls are dumb enough to send me worthless cards because their friends do it. Don't say that I'm arrogant for not wanting them."

"That's the problem!" Hermione said, finally fed up with his ignorance, "You think you can have everything! You think that just because people give you all this attention, you can decide exactly what you want and don't want! Does it matter how others feel? No! It's all about _you,_" she jabbed his chest angrily, "Because you're still the selfish bastard you always were!"

"Hermione, listen-" he began.

"No, I will _not _listen. You listen." she glared, "I don't know what hit you in the head, but it was probably a Bludger. We were fine last year and once January came, this...this _thing _started! Do you know how hard it is to look at you and remember that we used to talk and, I don't know, be friends with each other?"

"I don't-"

"Is it my fault? Did I do something to make you suddenly hate me? Or...or.." she struggled to find some sort of explanation, but faltered.

"Hermione, I don't hate you," Draco said quietly. "Just stop with the dramatics."

"Fine," she ground her teeth. "You know what? I don't care. I'm...I'm going to bed," she turned around, not caring that she was stepping on the cards that were scattered on the floor. She stumbled through the darkness until she reached her bedroom door.

"Hermione, wait." Draco's voice made her hesitate momentarily.

"_Cogito ergo sum_," she whispered to the girl on her portrait, ignoring his request.

_I think, therefore I am._

She was in the middle of opening the door when she heard him say again, "Please, just wait."

His voice seemed sincere and hopeful. She hadn't heard him speak to her like this in a while, and was taken aback by the sudden change in his attitude.

"What do you want?" she asked, not bothering to turn around. She heard him shuffling the remainder of the cards and tossing them into the fire, before walking over to where she stood.

She held out her wand. The soft glow basked Malfoy's face in a warm light, and he shielded his eyes.

"I need to explain...this," he said, "You can't just leave like this, without giving me a chance."

"You've had plenty of chances," she said flatly, and turned back to the doorknob. He caught her hand before she could reach it.

"Stop," he said firmly. "And would you please nox the light?"

Her body tensed at the contact, but a mixture of fatigue and passiveness took over. How much longer could she keep up this defense? How much longer would it be until she finally caved in, and gave up the fight? Another month? One week? And then she realized that—honestly? She didn't care at this point. Not anymore.

"Nox," she said in resignation. The shining orb of light was extinguished, replaced by warm shades of firelight. Draco turned her around so that she was facing him again. "I'm…" he began, then stopped.

"What?"

"Remember that night on New Year's Eve, when you asked me how I wanted to change?"

"…yes?"

His eyes flickered in the dim lighting, and her heartbeat suddenly increased for no apparent reason.

"I wanted to tell you then, but I couldn't. I wasn't sure."

"Tell me what?" she peered up curiously at him.

His light, warm breath ghosted across her forehead as he sighed. "Fuck, do we really have to talk about this?"

"You wanted to, so yes," Hermione retorted, "Now explain, please."

Draco ran his hand through his platinum blonde hair, obviously stressed from whatever was on his mind. "I wanted to distance myself from you when I realized that I cared too much, but I should have known better. I can't."

She stared at him speechlessly. Did he just admit that he cared for her?

He noticed her bewildered expression and hurriedly added, "It was stupid, I know. And I'm sorry."

_I cared too much._

In half a second, she had gone from extreme confusion to inexplicable hope.

"So...you did all of this...you ignored me because you didn't like how you felt?" she said incredulously. A strange sensation began rising in her chest, despite the negativity that threatened to sink it.

"You think I _wanted _to date the shimmering idiots in our year? It was the only thing I could do to deny this...thing," he finished lamely.

Hermione stared down at her fuzzy red socks, feeling everything she thought to be real crash on her shoulders. The whole entire month had been an act. All the glares, noncommittal replies and the apathy that filled their common room. All because of this.

"Please don't overthink this," Draco took her hands in his, and Hermione willed herself to stay still and not brush him away as she usually did. "I know what you're doing," he said, "And it's not going to work. No matter how much you weigh the situation, list the pros and cons, and have an internal debate with yourself, I _am _telling you the truth."

Suddenly, Hermione's heart accelerated.

He was telling the truth.

He meant it.

"Hermione?"

"I...I'm sorry, it's just..." she stuttered, unable to comprehend how this was possible. Just minutes ago she believed that she was the last person on Earth anyone wanted to see. But after this...awkward confession, the universe seemed to have turned on her. Her emotions ran rampant as she realized that it was _her _Draco had truly wanted to be with.

"Did I just render Hermione Granger speechless?" Draco said in mock surprise.

"Don't get used to it," Hermione warned, though her voice slightly shook.

"Ah, there's the bossy bookworm that I'm used to," Draco smirked. "I was worried about you for a moment there."

Hermione blinked and stared at him curiously. "How do you do that? How can you go from being serious to the arrogant holier-than-thou attitude so quickly?"

"It runs in the family," he shrugged nonchalantly.

Hermione stifled a laugh. "Obviously."

There was a comfortable silence for another few seconds, until Draco finally asked, somewhat hesitantly, "Do you...consider this change?"

Hermione was suddenly jolted back to a memory of the same question, but asked on a chilly balcony under a symphony of exploding, brilliant colors.

"_Do you consider this change?"_

_"I consider it progress."_

She looked back up into Draco's anxious grey eyes and realized that for the first time, he had opened up to her truthfully. He had made himself vulnerable to admit something extremely personal. No matter how guarded he had been over the past month, it all melted away tonight, leaving this...this person who had the sincerity to tell her his feelings and the passion to make her feel wanted. It almost felt surreal, but she knew that he meant everything he said.

She stood on her toes and gave him a gentle, chaste kiss. "Yes," she murmured truthfully, and smiled warmly when she saw how surprised he seemed. A flutter of excitement tickled her insides and along with it came the promise of something new. Something different.

"Definitely change."


End file.
